


Good God I Wish I Was Tall (PATRICK STUMP)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Fall Out Boy, patrick stump - Fandom
Genre: Andy Hurley - Freeform, Joe Trohman - Freeform, Other, fall out boy - Freeform, patrick stump - Freeform, pete wentz - Freeform, reader - Freeform, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Word count: 1179</p><p>Requested: Yes</p><p>A/N: Sorry if this isn’t what you had in mind but I left it open for a possible second part if this isn’t what you wanted!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good God I Wish I Was Tall

“I’m not that short,” You groaned, tipping your head back. The band laughed around you and a flush rose to your cheeks. The bus was moving, of course, so you had no escape. Pete and Patrick were the main perpetrators of your pain, even though they were they short ones out of the band, and they were sat next to you giggling. “Honestly.”

“Okay you’re four foot nine,” Joe pitched in, looking up from his phone, “You’re shorter than everyone on the bus so technically you are the short one.” You groaned again and Pete clamped a hand down on your shoulder.

“Look,” He chortled, “We’re almost to the hotel now. Maybe you have time to go p-put on stilts!” His straight face broke and he dissolved into laughter. You scoffed and stood up.

“You guys are jerks,” You said, trying your hardest to keep your face straight. You knew Pete would blow it off and apologize whenever he felt like it but Patrick would be beside himself with worry. He had been your friend since second grade, but you both had a falling out during high school. There was history he was afraid to lose. You knew, as you were crawling into you bunk with a sly smile on your face, that Patrick would be eating out of your hand.

And you were right.

When the bus came to a stop you were half asleep, headphones in, curled in on yourself. It barely registered to you because you were almost asleep, the short jokes already long gone from your mind. When Patrick shook your shoulder and called your name. His voice was small and you mustered up a tired glare, rolling over.

“Yeah?” You asked, squinting up at him. Patrick’s fedora sat slightly off kilter and he had pulled his cardigan sleeves over his hands. “Your glasses are crooked,” You pointed out when he didn’t say anything, pushing your legs out of the bunk and jumping down. Patrick fixed them and turned, walking through the bus and leaving you alone to gather your stuff for the night. As aggressive as he could be, loud, obnoxious (like Pete) Patrick was still shy and reserved around you.

Slinging your backpack over your shoulder you shuffled to the front of the bus, still drowsy from your small nap. Everyone was gone except for Pete who jumped at you from the side and threw an arm around your shoulder.

“Patrick’s distraught,” He said, “We picked up Bren at the last gas station and Patrick wouldn’t stop whining to him about making you mad.” You smirked, “And everyone else knows you’re not, literally everyone, but I’m still sorry anyway.” He made a fake pouting face as he led you out of the bus, the two of you laughing heartily. Patrick was there, biting his thumbnail and looking sad. He swooped in and removed your backpack from your shoulder, effectively bumping Pete’s arm off as well.

“I’ll get this for you,” He said, glaring at Pete. The bassist put his hands up in a surrendering motion and backed away, grinning at Patrick.

“I can get it,” You insisted, looking up at Patrick. He was five foot five, which was barely less than a foot taller than you. (Like Joe.)

“No, no,” Patrick pushed it onto his shoulders and shrugged. You admit that he was fairly attractive but he was also super not into you. “I got it.” He mumbled something you couldn’t catch and held the door to the hotel for you.

“Hey!” Brendon yelled, raising a hand to wave at you. You grinned and waved back, giggling. Patrick cleared his throat and walked toward the desk, leaving you to stand by the door. You groaned and tipped your head back, too tired and irritated to deal with his mood swings. You walked forward and leaned on the counter next to Patrick who was collecting the room key.

“I think you’re rooming with me,” Brendon said from behind you. You turned and he was smirking at you, wiggling a room key in front of you.

“I could,” You said, yawning, “At this point, I don’t care who I room with. But with that look on your face you’re thinking some unsavory things, Urie.”

“You can make all the moves, you can aim all the spotlights,” He sang, “Get all the sighs and moans just right.” Brendon grinned wider when Patrick turned you around.

“You can room with me for the night,” He said, glaring at Brendon. His jaw was clenched and your stomach turned. He was really mad at Brendon.

“Sorry, Bren,” You sighed, looking up at him, “Patrick has claimed me, I guess.” Brendon snapped his fingers.

“Awe darn. I’ll just have to Skype Sarah.” He grinned and bounded past you two, already tugging his phone from his jeans.

“We’re on the third floor,” Patrick said, voice hard. You rolled your eyes and followed after him. Weren’t you supposed to be the one that was angry?

–

Patrick had disappeared into the shower as soon as he unlocked the door and you had changed into your pajamas, and crawled under the covers. You were intent on ignoring Patrick and his crummy behavior for the rest of the night. But you couldn’t help but feel guilty for causing the whole mess. Obviously you had hurt Patrick and for some reason he was taking it out on everyone. The shower turned off and you heard the door open. Steam rolled out, warming the room and you tried to act like you were sleeping. Patrick changed and you heard something that sounded like he was laying down.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. Did he hope you were awake? Maybe he hoped you were asleep. Either way you had already heard and there was no going back.

“I know,” You said, “You know I wasn’t really mad, right?” Your back is to his bed but you hear him sigh. He makes a noise of agreement.

“I don’t like how Brendon flirts with you,” He confessed, “Or Pete.” You rolled over and sat up, looking at him. He was laying on his back, trying to ignore your stare on him.

“First of all, Pete and I don’t flirt. That’s gross. He’s like my brother. And it’s the same with Bren. We joke around but he’s married, Patrick. Do you really think that lowly of me?”

Patrick sat up in a hurry, waving his hands frantically.

“Dammit, that’s not what I said!” He cried, swinging his legs over his bed, “It’s not what I meant either! I just mean I don’t like seeing you with other guys! I don’t like seeing Pete’s arms around you or hearing Brendon sing my lyrics trying to seduce you! I like you, damnit, even though you’re short and bitter about it!” He was out of breath and his face was red.

“You like me?” Patrick nodded. “Then stop making short jokes about me, you ass!” You both laughed as you threw a pillow at him. The tension in the room faded as you both relaxed.


	2. The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide is Press Coverage (PATRICK STUMP)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 2327
> 
> Requested: Yes
> 
> I put so many references into this and song lyrics. I was so happy when writing this but honestly it’s probably not even that good. But here you go!!

Neither of you made a move to join the other in bed, although you thought about it. Patrick, you had discovered one night when the bus heating went out, was basically a personal heater. But his face was still red and so was yours when you decided to settle in for the night, curling in on yourself to fall asleep.

You didn’t dream, whether that was because you were too exhausted to remember or too nervous for what would happen with Patrick next you weren’t sure. The only thing you knew when you woke up the next morning Patrick was gone. There was no note and no messages on your phone so you pulled up the tour group chat.

_patty is gone and i am going to shower someone get me food_

Brendon was the first to reply: _can i join? ;)_

And then it was Pete, Frank and Dallon almost at the same time with almost the same message.

_please stop being such a typical white boy you’re married_

You just laughed and tossed your phone on your bed, watching with apathy as it bounced off of the bed and onto the floor. “Meh,” You shrugged, gathering your clothing for a shower. It was barely eight in the morning and you just wanted a good breakfast and to maybe borrow one of Patrick’s cardigans. They were warm and smelled like him, which is secretly the reason you loved them so much. After showering and drying you were dressed in your underwear, suffocating in the steam of the bathroom. You tried to quickly dress but eventually decided to throw open the door and let some of the steam out.

“Well-!” You heard someone grunt.

“Patrick?” You asked, leaning around the door. Patrick was sprawled out on the ground, hat next to his head and a take out box on his chest. “Are you okay?” You asked, stepping out of the bathroom and wrapping your towel around yourself.

“I think,” He groaned, wiping his hands down his face, “You’ve got a strong toss, there,” He chuckled, sitting up.

“Your hat fell off,” You laughed, leaning past him to pick it up. When you straightened and placed it on his head you winked, making his already cherry red face become redder. He stuttered out a response before looking away from your basically naked body. “Look, I’ve got to get dressed but you can set that food on my bed if it’s for me.” Patrick nodded and you stepped back into the bathroom, which was considerably cooler. Once dressed you found Patrick reclining on his bed, texting or something.

“Brendon says sorry the coffee’s cold.”

You shrugged, “I like my caffeine cold,” You grinned at him as he gaped at you and then smirked.

“Coffee’s for closers, anyways,” Patrick scoffed, trying to make a bad pun out of one of his own songs. You picked up the starbucks cup and, sure enough, it was cold. You were slightly weirded out when you bent to pick up your phone, reading over the messages that had gone on in the group chat while you were gone.

_bren, You typed, this coffee is weirdly hot to the touch_

It was Andy who replied, though, with a simple: _but is it cold on the inside?_

Behind you, Patrick snorted. “You have to stop making bad puns out of song titles from my band,” He insisted, “It’s unbecoming.” You pushed your phone into your pocket before turning to glare at the man on the bed.

“You have to stop making bad short jokes about me,” You mocked, “It’s unbecoming.” Patrick grinned, and pushed himself up from the bed.

“They guys are all bunking on one bus tonight, do you wanna join?” Everyone? On the tour? Heck yeah, you wanted to join but the tour busses didn’t seem big enough for that.

“Everyone?” You asked, eyebrow quirked, “Even the crew?” Patrick scoffed, walking toward you. You were slightly intimidated because, you know, you weren’t even five foot tall but either way you plastered on a cocky smirk as he answered you.

“Naw, it’s just the band guys. The crew’s gonna hang out on our bus while we take Panic!’s bus,” He took your hand, slowly, to test the waters. You responded by intertwining your fingers.

“Do I really have a choice? I don’t know any of the crew and I’m always down for a chance to see Brendon!” Patrick responded exactly as you hoped when you said it, a frown etching itself on his face and averting his eyes. “You know I’m kidding, right?” You said, setting your coffee down and catching his other hand in yours. He nodded and pursed his lips.

“You’re just really good at making me jealous.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in for a hug. You sighed and set your head against his chest. “Also I love hugging you because you’re so short.”  
“Good God,” You breathed, chuckling, “I wish I was tall.” Patrick kissed the top of your head, pulling away to let you eat and gather his stuff.

—-

It was a driving day, something that, if you had been stuck on the bus with only Fall Out Boy, would have driven you insane. Patrick had told everyone on the tour about how you hit him with a door.

(“Were you naked?” Dallon had asked, “Because that would be totally hot.” To which Pete and Patrick bumped him over the back of the head. Brendon gave him a thumbs up and a grin.) But there were a lot of people on a bus that had run out of alcohol (and knowing Brendon, weed) long before the day had started. Brendon was the only one who was slightly tipsy because he had been drinking with his guitar tech, but other than that you were all sitting in the lounge area, telling stories to pass the time.

You were in the middle of a story about one of your family reunions when Frank cut in, “Yeah, but where are you in all of this?” He asked. Gerard nodded from his spot on the floor.

“Yeah, we haven’t heard anything about you in this story.” You playfully glared at them for a moment because they were interrupting your story about your cousins.

“I am the narrator, of course,” They nodded and you leaned back into Patrick’s legs, unaware of his eyes trained on you as you told your story to the group, eyes alight and hands waving. There were a lot of people to keep entertained, but you were doing it. (And by a lot, I mean a lot. It was Panic! At the Disco, Fall Out Boy, Twenty One Pilots, Mark, FrnkIero andthe Cellebration and Gerard Way all shoved into one small lounge room.) Patrick was amazed that you could captivate an entire room, but then again he wasn’t really surprised. For as short as you were your personality took up the whole room.

Patrick wasn’t aware when you stopped telling your story and fell into a trance listening to Tyler tell some off the wall basketball story inspired by something in your story, but Patrick wasn’t aware of a lot of things when he was around you. In a burst of confidence that wasn’t foreign to him at all, he leaned down and wrapped his arms around you, tugging you onto the couch and into his lap.

“Patrick,” You whispered, turning to face him, stunned, “What’re you doing?” And he wanted to kiss you, but instead he settled for shrugging and placing his fedora on your head. Brendon, who was sitting across the room from Patrick, grinned at the elder man, wiggling his eyebrows. (Patrick gave him the finger, causing Josh and Andy to cheer like middle schoolers.)

The bus slowed and then pulled off the highway and you were surprised to see that almost three hours had passed. It was a general consensus that everyone would get off at the gas station to stretch their legs because, let’s be real, there were fourteen people besides you, so there wasn’t a lot of stretching room on the bus.

Patrick didn’t want to see you go but he knew he needed to corner Brendon in the gas station to ask the one closest to you, besides him, what to do. His stomach was in knots and he couldn’t think straight seeing you in his hat but Brendon sought Patrick out, cornering him before he could even enter the gas station.

“Frankie!” You called, oblivious to Patrick and Brendon’s heated discussion as you entered the gas station. He turned to you and smiled, throwing an arm easily around you as you both ventured to the soda aisle, “Do you got some bills I can borrow?” You asked, batting your eyelashes, “Patty has my  wallet but if I ask for it back he’ll want his hat back.”

Frank giggled and nodded but then his face turned serious and he turned to you in the soda aisle, setting both of his hands on your shoulders. “How do you feel about Patrick? Because I heard him talking to Pete the other day and he seems pretty serious about you.” Your face flushed and you looked down, reaching past Frank to grab a can of your favorite cola.

“I don’t know,” You said, stomach rolling. Thinking about it too hard made everything uncertain, “If something’s going to happen, I need it to be good. I could use something good.” He smiled, making his eyes wrinkle the slightest bit.

“If he was willing to put everything on the line, would you give it a go?” Frank asked, letting his arms drop from your shoulders and grabbing his own soda.

“Duh,” You replied, “Isn’t that what I just said?”

Frank shrugged, “I just asked again to make sure. I’ve learned people are more honest when asked twice and I wanted honesty.” He turned to walk toward the cashier and you followed.

“That’s all you had to say,” You replied, laughing to yourself. Frank looked at you over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes I can’t stand you,” He joked, handing you soda over to pay for it, “But I wouldn’t want to ever let you down or have you go.” He said, playing along.

“It’s better off this way,” You said dramatically, causing both you and Frank to fall into a fit of giggles. The cashier looked at you both weirdly before handing Frank his change. He pointed a finger at you.

“You owe me, but right now I think someone wants to talk to you.” You turned and looked at where Frank was pointing and sure enough, Patrick was standing there, biting his lip and looking nervous. You smiled at Frank and gave him a wave as you went over to join Patrick.

“Because of you I own Frankie six bucks,” You teased, replacing his hat on his head. “Do you want me to go pocket fishing for my wallet or are you going to hand it over?” The nervousness drifted from Patricks face and he smirked, holding up both of his hands.

“I think I’m going to let you pocket fish.” He teased, wondering if you really would while people you knew roamed around the gas station. You stepped forward, a cocky smile on your face, as you slipped your hand into his front, left pocket painfully slow. His eyebrows raised and his face flushed as his body tensed. When you didn’t find your wallet, only his phone, you moved onto the right, front pocket. Nothing. You shuffled until your body was pressed against Patrick’s shaking body and snaked your arms around him, gliding your hand into his back left pocket. It wasn’t there but you left your hand linger, relishing in the fact that Patrick was not breathing properly. (And that you were touching his butt, but you would never admit that.)

The only pocket left was his back right pocket so you took your hand from his back pocket slowly, standing as tall as you could to whisper in his ear, “I want to be the only person to hold you and stay the night with you.” But you were too short, and Patrick realized this as you slipped your hand into his pocket and fetched your wallet, so he leaned down and yelled.

“Huh? I can’t hear you down there!” You smacked his arm with your wallet before he spoke again. “Is tonight our night?” He asked, titled his head. You knew he wanted to kiss you and his lips were so close. You wanted to kiss him right then and there.

“It won’t be easy,” You whispered. Dating a rockstar never would be, and you knew it, but you wanted Patrick as your own. All the years you had been friends, all the things you had been through were leading up to that moment in the gas station, surrounded by friends making idle chatter and ignoring you, “If you want an easy life tell me I don’t matter and I’ll walk away.”

Patrick laughed and shook his head, “I’m in this for the tall haul.” You furrowed your eyebrows, confused by his mis-speech.

“Don’t you mean the long haul?”

“No, I don’t. It was a pun because you’re short… The long haul?” He blushed, not moving his face away from yours.

“That was such a bad joke,” You sighed, “But I loved it at the same time.” He smiled at you before pressing his lips to yours in a chaste, but mesmerizing kiss.

“I loved that.” Patrick said when he pulled away, straightening to his full height and blushing. You looked at the ground before shoving lightly on his shoulder.

“I loved recording the whole thing!” Josh laughed and you turned to find him with his phone in his hand. His jovial look soon turned to horror when you and Patrick dashed after him, chasing him from the gas station, the laughter from the three of you echoing into the open sky.


End file.
